Once Upon A Shrubbery
by Raider-K
Summary: 1st place winner for the February Teitho Challenge prompt: 'First.' Even though Thranduil so rarely beheads people these days, Legolas dreads returning to Mirkwood and having to explain to his father how he got tangled up in Elrond's scheme to destroy the ring... (My attempt at writing a strong 1st person narrative voice, told from Legolas' perspective.)
**Once Upon A Shrubbery
**

 _Written for the February Teitho challenge prompt: "First."_

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My father was going to kill me. Possibly throw me into the dungeons for an extended stay to 'think about what I've done.' Then kill me. Slowly.

Maybe not. Sure he was. Maybe not. No. Yes. Yes, he would.

I grimaced and picked my way through the other elves streaming out from the Hall of Fire. They were all happy. None of them had fathers who would happily hug you upon your return and then berate you in the same breath for not returning quickly enough. Valar. I was so dead.

So maybe I was being a little melodramatic. My father would probably not separate my head from my neck in one graceful sweep of his sword. He so rarely beheaded people these days. He would be upset. He would be angry. There would be yelling for sure, a lot of it.

I squeezed past another jolly couple. Urgh. Nauseating. I already had enough of that from Aragorn, who was so in love with Arwen that if I weren't so happy for them, I might want to strangle him if he mentioned her one more time. Seriously. Of course, I was glad for them. I was. No one deserved it more than Aragorn. I mean, Elrond wasn't too keen on their relationship, but he would come around.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and stopped. Oh, who was I kidding? Here we were about to embark on a dangerous quest, and did I have anyone holding my hands and kissing me on a beautiful moonlit bridge by a waterfall? No.

Not even close. I sighed and picked up my pace again.

Sure, my father would miss me when I was gone. He'd be furious that I'd gone and gotten myself killed. Idiot mistake, really. I could hear him now: "You never consider the consequences of your actions, son." And the fellows in the guard would probably be disappointed that my second in command, Maelhros, would take over. He was such a stickler for details. No people skills, that one.

Of course even Maelhros was married with a loving wife and daughter back home, I reminded myself. He wasn't spending his nights wandering around alone like a reject.

I stopped short, realizing that in all my brooding, I had wandered off the path that led to my quarters. I glanced around. Another beautiful courtyard. More beautiful topiaries and statuary. Great. I could be pretty much anywhere in Imladris. Those things were hidden all over the hidden valley.

"Hey, are you lost?" The curious voice came from some kind of flowering shrub.

Fantastic. Now I've always been great at listening to nature, but really—this was too much.

I peered at the bush, and a curly-headed, round face popped out.

"Maybe he doesn't understand you." Another curly-headed round face appeared on the other side of the bush. "Not all the elves speak Common, you know." He came out from behind the plant, and I nearly sagged in relief.

Thank goodness, I was not having some sort of panic driven delusion about talking shrubbery. These were hobbits—the hobbits from Elrond's council meeting.

"Do—You—Understand—The—Words—Coming—Out—Of—My—Mouth?" the hobbit on the right said slowly, and gestured to his mouth. "Me—Pippin."

I laughed. "Me, Legolas?" I answered with a grin. "I do understand you, although this is the first time we've actually had a chance to speak together."

Another hobbit materialized from behind the bush. This one I recognized by his dark curly hair. He was Frodo, the Ringbearer. "Merry, Pippin," he said with a wry glance at his friends. "This is the elf who volunteered to go on the quest. The archer, right?"

"Oy, you're going on the quest too?" The one on the left piped up. Merry, I decided.

"Sorry, but it's hard to tell you elven lads apart," said Pippin as he gestured for me to come around to the other side of the bushes, where apparently the hobbits had made a cozy little hideout.

Frodo, Merry, and Pippin all plopped down, and there was one more hobbit there—I didn't know his name, and then they were all pointing at an extra cushion sitting in the grass for me to join them.

"Come on now, Legolas," they said. "Join us for a bit. The evening is so nice tonight, and we were just thinking about making another run to the kitchens for a snack."

I dubiously eyed the cushion, a beautifully embroidered work of art. Oh….housekeeping was not going to like this. I could picture the scandalized look on Erestor's face.

So of course, I immediately sat down, stretched out my long legs and eyed my half-sized little companions. The hobbits seemed to be in the middle of some sort of debate.

" _You_ should go. The cook already gave me the stink-eye for that minor incident with the cake," Pippin said to Merry. "Oooh, what a cake! I'm starving."

"I dunno, Pip," Merry intoned. "The cook might still be upset about earlier."

"Probably so…" Pippin trailed off and then peered at me. "So, where are you from?"

"The Woodland Realm," I told them, a bit proudly.

The hobbits looked at each other confusedly. "Haven't heard of that one before," said Merry, shaking his head.

"Mirkwood," supplied Frodo helpfully, "you know, like in Bilbo's story—the one with all the creepy spiders!" He caught himself and then glanced at me apologetically. "Sorry, Legolas."

But the other hobbits seemed suitably impressed. "Nice! That's one of my favorite stories," Pippin said, and Merry nodded his head in agreement. The fourth hobbit, the one I had yet to learn his name, did not seem so sure. In fact, he shuddered.

Frodo laughed and patted him on the back. "Sam here doesn't care much for spiders," he said.

"Oh…well, no worries," I quipped. "All the really big ones live in my forest." Sam didn't seem too appeased by that. I added, "And if you're ever in a pinch and need to kill one—aim for its soft underbelly."

"Right." Sam nodded. "Belly. Got it." He rubbed his own as an afterthought.

"Are you married?" This time the question came from Merry, his round, curious eyes prompting me to answer. I was beginning to see that I was quickly becoming tonight's entertainment.

"No," I said shortly. Why? Always with the 'are you married' question! Even hobbits were asking me. Good grief, I thought.

But the hobbits weren't put off my less than enthusiastic response. Pippin tsked and then rubbed his pipe on his sleeve and pointed it toward me. "Why not?"

Merry shoved him in the shoulder. "He may not have any options, Pip! Way to make the lad feel badly!"

I shifted uncomfortably on my cushion. "Well, actually—"

Pippin cut me off. "Like Sam here. He fancies Rosie but is too shy to say anything to her."

Sam turned beet red, and the other three hobbits chuckled a little. I felt sorry for him.

"Well," I said defensively, trying to take the heat off of Sam a little. "It's hard to know the right thing to say to a lady."

"Right," Sam agreed appreciatively and gave me a thankful look.

Pippin clutched his stomach and groaned. "I'm so hungry!" he complained. "And it's _hours_ until breakfast time."

Just then an apple sailed over the bushes and smacked Pippin upside the head.

"Ow." Pippin rubbed his head and then much to my astonishment, he actually picked up the apple, scrubbed it on his sleeve, and took a bite. He looked around suspiciously. "Strider! We know you're there!"

Aragorn leaned over the bush, spied me on the cushion. The corners of his mouth quirked up. "Legolas! It's a happy coincidence to find you here among friends."

"Aragorn!" I said, scrambling to stand up. "I'm surprised to see _you_ here." I thought he would still be wooing Arwen at least until well past midnight.

"You might give a hobbit some warning…" muttered Pippin but he didn't seem overly surprised. I wondered if chucking fruit at hobbits was a regular thing for Aragorn.

"Do you mind if I steal Legolas away?" Aragorn asked the hobbits. "I have a few questions for him."

"Only if you return him!" chided Merry. "We were on the short path to becoming the best of friends!"

Pippin caught my eye and smiled knowingly. "Yes indeed!" he agreed. "And bring us back something from the kitchen!"

"Rolls!" shouted Merry.

"Cheese!" Pippin added.

"Both!" Sam chimed in and then blushed again.

With a last look back at the hobbits—they had already moved onto a scintillating conversation of the merits of something called the old Toby **—** I followed Aragorn out of the courtyard. 'You would not have gotten away easily," he said, his eyes merry as he pointed back toward the sound of the hobbits' laughter.

"I guess not, but then again, I might welcome such a snare," I said, thinking about it. Their mannerisms and style of conversation were so very different from that of my fathers' courtiers. I liked it. "I guess I can look forward to more questions once we get on our way?" I asked archly.

"Never ending," Aragorn replied flatly.

I stopped in the middle of the path, my heart suddenly anxious. "They're so childlike, so innocent," I realized aloud.

Aragorn nodded. "They are. I fear what toll the journey will have on them."

"I don't see why Gandalf allows it, or Elrond for that matter," I said, my face feeling hot. "How can they possibly endure against the evil we will encounter on this quest?"

"They've already proven themselves remarkably resilient, Legolas," the ranger told me. "And however small—or mortal—" he added as an afterthought, "they're a part of this world and deserve their chance to fight for it."

"I guess so, only—" I did not finish my sentence. The sound of the hobbits' laughter rang out again from the courtyard. My eyes met Aragorn's, and he shrugged. I glanced back toward the stone archway, and just beyond it, a particularly large flowering shrubbery that hid four remarkable little people. There was nothing diminutive about their enthusiasm or their warmth.

"Legolas. Are you coming?" Aragorn waited down the path.

I shook my head. "No," I said simply. "I think I need to make a trip to the kitchens."

And I did.

Oh, if my father could see me now, balancing a basket of rolls and a platter of cheese in my arms—and wine, don't forget the wine! The cook had loaded up the basket without a second thought and had hinted about this being the perfect evening for midnight trysts.

Right, midnight trysts. Well, there would be no romancing in the moonlight for me, no moonlight kisses on a bridge by a waterfall, but somehow that didn't seem as important anymore. I think I had stumbled onto something even better, I told myself.

It was too late to back out now.

I peered over the large shrubbery, and four pairs of eyes widened when they saw that I had indeed made a lucrative trip to the kitchens. And for the first time since impulsively volunteering to join the Fellowship, I didn't feel that dreadful knot in the pit of my stomach.

I held up the basket like a trophy.

"Rolls? Cheese?" I asked triumphantly. My eyes met Sam's. He smiled. "Or both?"

Yes, definitely something better.

I had hobbits.

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Thank you for reading! Please review if you love Legolas and hobbity goodness! ;)


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